


beautiful mistake

by groundopenwide



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Dalton Academy, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine transfers back to Dalton following the events of 4x07, and Sebastian is counting his lucky stars that he's been given another chance. Or has he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	beautiful mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Seblaine Week 2013.

It is exactly four days after Blaine Anderson came crawling back to Dalton in search of his missing Nationals trophy when Sebastian spots the boy in his second period physics class.

His stomach promptly swoops down to his feet.

In all honesty, Sebastian is shocked. As cute and persuasive as Hunter’s whole serenade-and-entice-with-old-blazer stunt had been, Blaine had left Dalton looking no less uncertain or lonely than before, and Sebastian had resigned himself to the fact that, yes, Blaine Anderson not only still hated his guts, but apparently the rest of the Warblers’ as well.

And now he is seated three rows and two seats over from Sebastian in Professor Miller’s class, his hair impeccably gelled (as always) and his navy blazer fit snug across his shoulders.

Sebastian doesn’t think twice once the bell rings about quickly throwing his things into his bag and bolting up after Blaine, hoping to catch the boy during the five-minute passing period.

“Blaine!” he calls out, and the boy halts in the middle of the hallway, turning slowly around on his heel and glancing back at Sebastian.

His eyes seem just a tad bit brighter than a few days ago as Sebastian crosses the space between them, backpack slapping against his shoulder. He comes to a stop in front of Blaine, pushing his too-long hair away from his eyes (and  _wow,_ it’s only now that he realizes just how long it’s been since he had it cut), and offers Blaine a hesitant smile, his eyes lowering as he takes in the way the boy’s tie rests neatly against his chest.

“You came back after all,” Sebastian adds quietly. Blaine drops his gaze to his feet, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug as he raises one hand to rub at the nape of his neck.

“You guys did make quite the proposition,” he mumbles.

Sebastian laughs. He still can’t quite believe that Blaine is  _back._  It’s been a distant hope for months, now, niggling at the back of Sebastian’s mind as his thoughts danced around all of the hardships he’d put Blaine and his friends through. And as much as Blaine had insisted that he’d forgiven Sebastian (over the course of multiple drunken phone calls on Sebastian’s part), he’d still maintained an air of insecurity when Sebastian had attempted to speak with him earlier in the week. It was obvious, the way Blaine furiously avoided Sebastian’s eyes and stared resolutely out the window, the flash of doubt that scampered across his features when Sebastian had declared that he’d  _turned over a new leaf._  The disbelief stung, just a little, and Sebastian had pretty much grown to accept that he’d ruined things with Blaine beyond repair.

But now he’s here, at Dalton, and there is a suspicious warmth swirling its way through Sebastian’s insides, something pleasant and distracting.

“The powers of song and dance,” he replies finally, and Blaine just shakes his head. His mouth is tipped up at the corners, the guardedness that Sebastian has become so accustomed to when in the boy’s presence seeming to dissipate slightly.

“Maybe I just really missed the food,” Blaine states, a playful lilt to his voice.

Sebastian clutches a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “On behalf of all of the Warblers, I’m wounded.”

Blaine’s smile simply widens, and Sebastian collects himself long enough to quit staring at the way the smaller boy’s face lights up as he does so to ask, “where are you headed?”

“Latin,” Blaine replies, slipping his hand into his pocket to dig around for his folded schedule so that he can pass it to Sebastian. “I may not be worthy of Advanced Placement language like  _some_ of us here, but at least it isn’t Spanish I.”

Sebastian accepts the sheet of paper, shooting Blaine a wink before glancing down at the list of classes in his hands. “Well, look at that. Physics, Trig, and Econ. We might be seeing a fair amount of each other, Killer.”

He re-folds the schedule and hands it back to Blaine, whose cheeks are now slightly flushed as he fumbles to shove the paper away. The warmth in Sebastian’s gut only seems to intensify, and he reaches out as the warning bell sounds above their heads, his fingers cautiously wrapping around Blaine’s shoulder and giving it a friendly squeeze.

“I’ll see you around,” he promises, ignoring the way his chest flutters when Blaine grins in return.

*

During Econ, Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to drop down into the empty seat beside Blaine, immediately discarding his backpack on the floor at his feet and leaning back in his chair. Blaine turns sideways upon his arrival, his eyebrows rising, and Sebastian smirks, his fingers tapping absently against his thigh.

“So,” he starts, eyeing the gentle fold of Blaine’s fingers as they grasp at his pencil. “You coming to rehearsal today?”

He returns his gaze to Blaine’s face, and the boy’s features shift, his teeth worrying at the pink flesh of his bottom lip. And—okay, yeah. It’s an adorable sort of nervous that makes Sebastian want to throw his arms around Blaine’s smaller body and tuck him in close, reassure him that he doesn’t have to fret, that all of the Warblers will welcome him back with open arms. It’s a sudden urge that Sebastian instantly crushes, his eyebrows furrowing. When did he turn into such a girl?

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea,” Blaine answers at last, his voice soft. “I mean—it is my first day back and all. I still have to get some things settled…”

Sebastian sighs quietly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Blaine,” he interrupts, before dropping his hand back to his side. “Do you really think we’d have enticed you with a Kelly Clarkson song if we didn’t actually want you here?”

“But…” Blaine protests feebly, Sebastian holding up his palm to stop him.

“Come,” he demands seriously, leaning forward in his seat so that he can catch Blaine’s eyes. The other boy stares back at him anxiously, his mouth twisted, and Sebastian responds by schooling his expression into something gentler, hoping that his sincerity is conveyed in his gaze. “At least for today. After that, it’s up to you, alright?”

Blaine worries for another moment, rolling his lip into his mouth and wrinkling his nose before he finally exhales and agrees. “Fine.”

*

“We are  _not_ singing a song about blowjobs,” Nick complains, scrubbing a hand over his face. The Warblers are scattered about the senior commons, Hunter in his grandiose chair at the front of the room (which Sebastian just so happens to think is the most ridiculous sight ever) while the rest of the boys are seated across the various sofas and chairs. They are arguing over song choices for Sectionals, Hunter seeming to think that they should go for the purely-entertainment angle, while Nick and some of the others insist on the more emotional, heartfelt ballads. Sebastian, personally, has no preference, his legs kicked up onto the coffee table in front of him as he absentmindedly clicks his tongue every few seconds, his eyes continuously darting to the door.

He is most definitely  _not_  awaiting the appearance of a certain short, curly-haired transfer. Not at all.

“And what do you suggest, Duval? Some Celine Dion, perhaps? We could take the  _Titanic_ approach?” Hunter drawls sarcastically, pushing his dumb cat off of his lap and leaning forward in his seat. “The judges want  _big._ They want bold. And what’s more bold than a song about sucking dick?”

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian watches as Nick visibly winces, and he has to resist the urge to chuckle under his breath. Jeff is about to pipe in from the other side of the room when the door to the commons suddenly creaks open, and Sebastian’s feet instantly drop to the floor as he straightens up and jumps to full alertness.  

A moment later, Blaine pokes his head into the room, and his smile is tiny, hesitant. “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

A loud course of  _Blaine!_  fills the room, the majority of the boys scrambling up to their feet to greet the ex-Warbler. Sebastian stays where he is, simply choosing to watch, and Hunter manages to catch his eye over the group of bodies now clustered in the center of the room, his mouth quirking up into a knowing smirk.

Sebastian forces himself to roll his eyes and then looks away, his eyes immediately snapping back to Blaine.

Blaine’s mouth is tucked upwards into a huge grin as he is surrounded by a sea of blazers, his eyes shining, and the sight causes that cursed fluttering to return and pester Sebastian’s insides. He swallows past the sudden lump in his throat and redirects his attention to acting casual, his body sinking back into the sofa while he counts his breaths.  _One…out…two…out…_

But then Blaine is right in front of him, his hand outstretched, and Sebastian blinks.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” Blaine inquires, and his tone is almost…coy, playful. Sebastian slowly grabs hold of Blaine’s palm, hefting himself up to his feet as he feels his signature smirk slip across his face, his heart  _thump-thumping_ inside his chest.

“Welcome back, Blaine,” he murmurs.

*

Blaine’s room is a single, four doors down from Sebastian, since there hadn’t been anyone else in need of a roommate. Blaine insists that he doesn’t mind, that he’d much rather have his own space, and Sebastian merely rolls his eyes at the glint of disappointment in Blaine’s eyes as he speaks.

He makes it a point after that to spend as much time in Blaine’s room as possible.

Sometimes they work on homework, studying for an upcoming Trig test or helping each other with English assignments. Other times, they’ll just sit around and do nothing, watching a random movie while conversing about everything and nothing, from the upcoming competition to their college plans for next year. It’s comfortable and easy in a way that Sebastian’s relationship with Blaine has never been before— _before,_ when he was too busy concocting his heinous plans to pummel the New Directions and steal Blaine away from his lady-faced boyfriend.

They only talk about that once, when one evening out-of-the-blue, Sebastian blurts, “I’m sorry.”

They are seated on Blaine’s twin bed, textbooks spread open in front of them. Sebastian has his back to the wall while Blaine lies flat on his stomach, and he lifts his head when Sebastian speaks, his mouth curving downwards slightly.

Surely, he knows why Sebastian is apologizing—the understanding is written in the glimmering in his eyes and the crinkle in his brow. Blaine waits another moment before setting down his pencil and pushing his textbook aside, moving himself so that he is sitting up and cross-legged across from Sebastian.

“I know you are,” Blaine says carefully, holding Sebastian’s gaze. “But it’s over now, okay? Stop feeling bad about it.”

Sebastian frowns and looks down, knotting his fingers together in his lap. “I can’t exactly help it.”

“You made amends. That’s all that matters,” Blaine insists, reaching out to hesitantly touch Sebastian’s knee. “We’re friends now. Everything’s good. We’re good, right?”

The statement  _we’re friends_  seems to unfurl something warm and soft in Sebastian’s chest, and he manages to conjure up a small smile, his leg tingling where Blaine’s hand has made contact. “We’re good,” he affirms quietly, and Blaine’s smile is like the sun breaking through the clouds on a dreary day, spreading across his face and taking over his features completely. It makes Sebastian’s stomach twist, and he has to look away.

*

Hunter does end up singing about blowjobs at Sectionals, but they compromise by agreeing that the second number will be a much more appropriate One Direction song, sung by Sebastian.

And they  _kill it._  All of the insane training and choreography rehearsals that Hunter has put them through pay off, their flips and spins and jumps occurring in perfect unison. Blaine hangs close to the background, only because he’d arrived so late in their preparations, but Sebastian meets his eyes twice during their performance, and both times, Blaine returns the look with a blinding grin. Sebastian knows that the New Directions are somewhere in the audience, no doubt cursing the Warblers for stealing away one of their star performers, but it’s hard to feel guilty when he has Blaine up beside him on the stage, singing in harmony and looking so utterly  _happy._

The applause is thundering as the Warblers clamber off the stage in a mass of cheering voices and clapping hands, Jeff and Nick both thumping Sebastian on the back and congratulating him on his solo while the others embrace each other in excitement. Sebastian hardly even notices when Hunter utters, _nice job, Smythe,_  his eyes already seeking out Blaine amongst the gaggle of limbs.

Their eyes lock, and then Blaine is smiling  _that smile_  again, closing the space between them and throwing his arms around Sebastian in a tight hug. Sebastian laughs brightly and wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist, squeezing him tightly and reveling in how solid and  _good_  Blaine feels against him.

“You were awesome,” Blaine says breathlessly as they separate.

“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure your  _na na na’s_ were what carried the whole performance,” Sebastian replies, and Blaine swats him on the arm.

“Just accept the compliment,” he grumbles.

Sebastian’s smile, if at all possible, widens, and he gently claps Blaine on the shoulder. “ _Thank you,_ Blaine,” he repeats, his tone going softer, and when Blaine peers up at him again, his grin has dimmed somewhat. Sebastian nearly worries for a second, before he realizes that Blaine isn’t upset. No, the expression on his face is…fond, almost, and Sebastian’s breath hitches.

The blaring of Blaine’s phone from inside his pocket shatters the moment, and Sebastian takes a step back, his shoulders dropping.

“I should—” Blaine starts, and Sebastian just nods, gesturing for him to answer.

“I’ll be here.”

Blaine smiles thankfully before turning away, his phone already pressed to his ear as he makes his way further backstage and away from the group. Sebastian turns his attention to Jeff and Thad’s energetic rambling at his side, trying to ignore the sinking in his stomach. He isn’t really sure what’s just happened, but it feels important, somehow. Monumental, even. It’s like something has shifted between he and Blaine, and he desperately wants to figure out what it is.

*

When Blaine returns about twenty minutes later, his eyes are wet, and Sebastian is immediately concerned. They still have awhile before they are to be called back onstage for the announcements of the winners, so he turns away from his conversation with Hunter and David and ambles his way over to Blaine’s side, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“You okay?” he asks softly. Blaine looks up in surprise, hurrying to wipe at his eyes, and smiles weakly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just…Kurt,” he explains quietly, and something pinches inside of Sebastian’s chest. He exhales carefully, an ache running through him at the mention of Kurt’s name. That’s the other thing they haven’t talked about. Sebastian doesn’t know what happened between them, just knows that it was bad enough for Blaine to be calling Kurt constantly and having the other boy repeatedly ignore his attempts at communication. Sebastian’s had to comfort Blaine on multiple occasions thanks to the cold shoulder Kurt’s been giving him, and if it weren’t for the fact that he knew it would upset Blaine, he would have flown to New York and punched Kurt’s face in ages ago.

“He’s talking to you, now?” Sebastian questions, unable to keep the bitter note from his voice. Blaine gives him a pointed look before sighing and looking down, and already, Sebastian misses the previous excitement on his face. He hates the downward turn to Blaine’s mouth and the wrinkle in his forehead. It just…doesn’t suit his normally bubbly, infectious personality.

“Um…he was actually calling about Christmas. He wants me to come to New York,” Blaine mumbles.

Sebastian swallows. “Oh.”

Blaine nervously lifts his eyebrows, saying, “…oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“Well,” Sebastian answers nervously, fidgeting with the buttons on his blazer. “Are you gonna go?”

He watches Blaine closely, noting the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his eyes taking great care to avoid Sebastian’s. “I…thought about it, but I told him that I kind of wanted to stay home for Christmas. Be with my family.”

His voice stresses the word  _family,_  and Sebastian doesn’t miss the emphasis, his mouth curving upwards despite his desperate attempts to smash the fluttering in his stomach. Blaine gazes back at him with a shy smile of his own, his cheeks flushed, and with a startling clarity, Sebastian realizes that he wants to kiss him. He aches to curl his hand over Blaine’s cheek and tip his head back, just so…

But it doesn’t feel right, not yet. So instead, he tosses his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and tugs him into his side, exclaiming, “in that case, I expect a kick-ass present.”

*

A few days into December, Sebastian is preoccupied with shoving his Econ notes into his backpack as he crosses campus from his dorm to the library when something wet and painfully cold smacks him straight on the back.

He immediately drops his things and whirls around, cursing under his breath. “What the hell?! Who—”

His voice dies off when he spots Blaine standing a few feet away, waving a gloved hand innocently in his direction. Cupped in his other palm is a small mound of snow, and Sebastian instantly forgets his belongings as he stoops down to gather up a handful of snow, calling out, “oh, it is  _on,_ Anderson.”

Blaine’s laugh is sharp and bright, and he takes off running just as Sebastian straightens up and angles the snowball towards him. It grazes Blaine’s side, and then Sebastian is sprinting along after him, stumbling to gather snow as he goes.

Blaine manages to catch him against his hip, and Sebastian retaliates by finally getting close enough to throw himself at Blaine’s back, the two of them sprawling out into the snow. Sebastian’s body is a heavy weight against Blaine’s own, and the boy beneath him is  _still_ chuckling, his chest rumbling as he elbows Sebastian gently in the stomach and urges him to get off. Sebastian obeys and rolls onto his own back next to Blaine, his chest still heaving from his sprinting to catch up, and he eventually tilts his head to the side to find that Blaine has turned over and is staring at him with a beaming smile, his teeth glinting and his nose red from the cold.

“That was so uncalled for,” Sebastian mumbles.

“At least I didn’t tackle you!” Blaine cries, huffing out a breath. “It was just a snowball.”

“And it was  _cold,_ ” Sebastian complains. His coat is beginning to soak through from the moisture against his back, but he finds that he doesn’t  _really_ mind, his thoughts too focused on how purely innocent and content Blaine looks, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

“You’re so lame,” Blaine replies.

Sebastian has the decency to look offended. “I am not lame.”

Blaine hums noncommittally before finally sitting up and reaching back to dust the snow from his shoulders. Sebastian copies the motion and rolls his neck for a moment, the joints starting to ache from his hard landing against the ground. He then turns back to Blaine, who is trying and failing to brush the rest of the snow off himself. He keeps twisting his torso, and the sight reminds Sebastian of a puppy chasing its tail, causing him to laugh quietly.

Blaine glares. “Stop laughing.”

“Sorry.” Sebastian grins, and before he can think too hard about it, he is reaching out to smooth the snowflakes off of Blaine’s collar. “You have snow in your hair, by the way.”

Blaine doesn’t respond, and when Sebastian meets his gaze, his heart stutters in his chest. Blaine is staring up at him with that fond smile again, and it warms Sebastian even though he is covered in snow and ice, his stomach churning nervously. Their eyes remain locked for a long moment, until Sebastian stretches out his gloved hand to shakily touch Blaine’s cheek.

Blaine blinks owlishly up at him, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, but says nothing. Sebastian takes that as an okay to continue, and closes the rest of the space between their mouths in the next second. Their lips touch, and Blaine’s mouth is cold but firm beneath his own. The movement is gentle, chaste, but it fills Sebastian with that sense of something  _monumental_  again, and he shudders. Blaine’s hand wedges itself against Sebastian’s hip, their noses bumping, and then Sebastian is pulling away, resting his chilled forehead against Blaine’s own.

A moment later, Blaine just grins.

*

They don’t really label things. Blaine is still Blaine, and Sebastian is Sebastian, and together, they are simply BlaineandSebastian.

(Oh, who is he kidding—they’re definitely boyfriends.  _Boyfriends—_ Sebastian never thought he’d utter the word.)

They still study together and watch movies and eat lunch side-by-side, but now with random bouts of physical contact in between. Sebastian will absentmindedly run his fingers through Blaine’s hair as they relax on the boy’s bed after a long day, or Blaine will squeeze his thigh gently at the lunch table, giving him a tiny smile over his sandwich. On the weekends, they sometimes go places, and sometimes they don’t. Sebastian will drive both of them to the movies, where they’ll spend the majority of the two-hour block making out in the back row, or they’ll head out for coffee ( _not_ to the Lima Bean—not only is it way too far, but it also hosts some negative memories for both of them). Things are still just as simple as they’d been a month ago, though the fluttering in Sebastian’s stomach is now a constant presence whenever he is in Blaine’s general vicinity.

He finds that he doesn’t really mind.

Christmas comes and goes, as does January, and then February, and soon, Regionals is upon them. Blaine and Sebastian’s relationship has gone more public, now, and all of the Warblers tease them ruthlessly, often causing Blaine’s face to redden as he hides it against Sebastian’s chest. Not once in his life has Sebastian thought that he’d ever become the other half of such a cliché high school couple, but now that he  _is,_  it’s sort of hard to complain. Blaine is gorgeous and talented and smiles a  _lot_ more now, and Sebastian likes to think that just a small part of that is due to him.

Hunter has decided that, in his exact words, “the happy couple should duet for Regionals,” and Sebastian is inexplicably nervous. Not because he’s soloing again, but mostly because he’s soloing with  _Blaine,_  and he’s afraid that might prove to be a distraction. Blaine does his best to reassure him, knotting their fingers together and kissing Sebastian gently on the lips as he says,  _we’ll kill it, don’t worry,_  and Sebastian honestly doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

Four months ago, he’d accepted the fact that Blaine Anderson wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. That epiphany had been shattered when Blaine reappeared at Dalton and slipped back into his life so seamlessly that it was like he’d been there all along. Sebastian doesn’t know exactly how they went from acquaintances to enemies to friends to  _boyfriends,_  but it’s as if the entire two years of their relationship slams into him in that moment, as he and Blaine wait side by side on the left wing of the stage, about to perform. He turns sideways and leans down, fingers darting up to lightly cup Blaine’s chin, and the smaller boy stares up at him in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Sebastian, we’re about to go on. What—” he says, but Sebastian cuts him off.

“Blaine,” Sebastian murmurs, stroking his thumb gently along the curve of his boyfriend’s jaw. “I love you.”

Blaine’s mouth drops open in a surprised ‘o,’ and Sebastian takes the opportunity to kiss him fleetingly, his stomach an angry jumble of nerves inside of him. “You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know,” he says firmly, then releases Blaine’s chin and steps back, smoothing down his blazer. A grin slips onto his face, and he shoots a brief look at a still shell-shocked Blaine, muttering, “let’s do this.”

*

When Sebastian steps out onto the stage, it feels almost unreal.

The lights are hot and blinding against his face, and he can already sense the sweat pooling against his temples and beneath the collar of his shirt. Blaine waits behind him, his cue not until the first few bars of the song have passed, but Sebastian can feel his boyfriend’s eyes on his back, and he shoots a quick look over his shoulder, the smile on his face still stretched wide.

But Blaine’s eyes aren’t on his face.

They are on his chest, and Sebastian frowns before following his gaze.

His blazer is suddenly gone, and is that—blood, blossoming outwards on the front of his white dress shirt, sticky and warm as Sebastian clutches a hand to his abdomen, a sharp pain abruptly shooting up his side. The music never starts, and Blaine is still staring in his direction, but not  _at_ him, his normally vibrant eyes now dim and vacant.

Sebastian sinks to his knees just as another bolt of pain goes off, this time in his neck, and he cries out, grasping at the skin and hunching forward to press his face into the ground. His body feels like it is on fire, consumed by an unbearable ache that eats away at his insides and leaves him gasping for air. Sebastian has no idea what’s going on—is he dying? He’s pretty sure he’s dying, the hurt white-hot and intense. His vision is speckled with spots, going black and then fizzing in again, the audience and the stage and  _Blaine_ now nothing more than fuzzy outlines against his vision. He chokes on his own breath, his mind chanting _Blaine, Blaine,_  over and over, but no sound leaving his throat.

A beat later, his mind goes utterly blank, and his eyes loll back into his head.

*

“Shit, Dean—I think he’s still breathing.”

Hands. Rough, calloused hands, tugging something out of his neck and then rearranging his limbs as Sebastian’s arms are suddenly cut loose from their position above him. They fall slack at his sides, the mind-numbing ache in his shoulders exploding outwards, and he groans. His throat is dry, lips cracked as his weak breath ghosts out over them, and Sebastian is still in  _so much pain._

His brain is diluted by a thick fog, and he thinks he hears voices again, but he isn’t too sure. Then, the hands are back, lowering him to the ground and wiping the blood away from the corner of his mouth—and when did that get there? Sebastian groans, or at least, he thinks he does; the sound is nearly mute, but the blurry figure that is hovering above him seems to hear it, the hands still tugging at Sebastian’s arms.

“Sam—c’mon, give me some water or something, the kid is parched—”

The blessed sensation of something cool and wet trickles into his mouth, and Sebastian feels slightly human again, but he is still so, so weak. His eyelids are crusted, and he can’t blink, much less move a muscle. His bottom lip quivers as the water touches the flesh, and soon, he is coughing hoarsely, choking as the liquid seeps down into his system.

“Hey, kid, it’s okay, it’s just water—you’re alive, stay with us, you’re gonna be fine—”

He wheezes, the motion sparking a fierce pain in his chest, and then blacks out again.

*

When he awakens the second time, he is in a car.

The engine rumbles beneath him, and he can hear voices, the same ones from earlier. They speak in hushed tones, sharp, as if they are arguing. Sebastian’s hand falls to his chest, and he realizes there is a bandage there, wrapped tightly around where his ribs are. The images of blood, and lights, and a stage, abruptly flit through his mind, and Sebastian thinks he remembers—

_Blaine._

He makes a garbled, unintelligible sound in the back of his throat, and the voices in the front seat die off, one of the figures turning to look at him. Sebastian blinks (he can move his fucking eyelids now, thank _god_ ), and he can make out a tall man, at least five or so years older than him, with a set of wide eyes and hair that curls messily against his forehead.

“You’re awake,” the guy says, and Sebastian grunts.

“Wha…?” he croaks out, his throat burning as he speaks. “Where…Blaine?”

He doesn’t miss the nervous look the guy shoots to the other person in the driver’s seat, a stilted silence settling over the car as the two communicate in looks and expressions. Sebastian coughs, a weak, pathetic sound that burns the back of his throat, and the man who had spoken finally turns back to him.

“What do you remember?” he asks softly.

Sebastian rubs absently at the bandage on his side. “I…Regionals,” he gasps out, the words falling slow and jumbled from his mouth. “Dalton…boyfriend.  _Blaine._ ”

The man in the front seat is staring at him with something so strongly akin to pity that Sebastian abruptly feels sick. He coughs again, hacking violently against the leather seat, and by the time he has calmed down, another voice is speaking, this one much deeper.

“None of it was real,” the voice states. “Wherever you were, whatever you did—none of it actually happened. You were attacked by a djinn. It placed you in an alternate reality—supposedly your dream one—while out here in reality, it sucked the life from you, bit by bit. It was all fake, kid.”

His tone is candid, so matter-of-fact. A lead weight has settled in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach, and he begins to panic, his voice coming out in stuttered breaths.

“No—no, you’re…wrong, it was— _real,_ ” he chokes desperately. “It had to…be… _real._ ”

The car is quiet.

A beat later, “I’m sorry, kid. I really am.”

If he was in pain before, that is nothing in comparison to how he feels  _now._ Sebastian feels as though someone has ripped his heart straight out of his chest and smashed it, broken it up into pieces and scattered it all over, and it  _hurts._  It hurts so badly, this ache, the shattering realization that  _he’d imagined the whole thing and Blaine never transferred back and they were never—_

His thoughts grind to a halt.

“You should have left me there,” he whispers brokenly.

Because at least if he had died at the hands of this  _djinn,_  or whatever the fuck it was, he would have done so at Blaine’s side.


End file.
